


Girls Will Be Boys, and Boys Will be Girls

by edgarallanrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Circa Season 10, Destiel - Freeform, Fem!Castiel, First Kiss, First Time, Genderswap, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, OC's - Freeform, Sam's Bitchface, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"By the time they had all piled into the Impala and headed on to the interstate Dean was sufficiently weirded out.  There had been some strange crap thrown at him in the past, and he liked to think he had enough experience under the belt now to be able to roll with the punches. Despite this, Dean was finding that nothing could have prepared him for confronting the situation of your best, male friend of many years being shoved into the body of a reasonably attractive, young girl. Vamps, werewolves, and ghosts were all fine and dandy but, dammit, Dean had never signed up for this."</p><p>Cas is temporarily forced to inhabit a female vessel, Dean is forced to confront his feelings, and Sam is forced to play mediator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is, the first chapter fic I have officially posted! Thank you to the readers of previous fics who encouraged me to post it. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to legalizescisaac for listening to me bitch the whole time I wrote this (and for betaing the first bit of it).
> 
> On that note, FYI, this fic is for the most part unbeta'd so all mistakes are my bad! I will not be offended if you want to point them out to me! Also, let me know if there are some tags I forgot/should include.
> 
> This fic is intended to take place sometime circa s10 at a point when Cas was still living on borrowed Grace and was not at full power. I ignore the Mark of Cain entirely. So you could say it's sort of an alternate s10. Besides the fact that Cas does not have his Grace there aren't really a whole lot of other show-related plot elements featured in this fic. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic that are associated with hit TV show, Supernatural. But one day, when I'm rich and famous, I will try my darnedest to own them.

**Girls Will Be Boys, and Boys Will be Girls**  

_Chapter 1_

Dean Winchester was tuning up the Impala in the front yard of his childhood home in Lawrence, Kansas. A twelve-year-old, floppy-haired Sam was in the backseat drumming on a headrest in time to the Led Zeppelin song blasting from the Impala’s speakers. The brothers sang every word at an obnoxious volume and completely out of tune.

_“BEEN A LONG TIME, BEEN A LONG TIME, BEEN A LONG, LONELY, LONELY, LONELY, LONELY, LONELY TIME!”_

Sam pounded out the final drumroll to bring the piece to a close.

Dean snickered as he propped up the hood to change the oil. He was just about ready to remove the oil cap when he heard the familiar chord progression that began the lead into _Ramble On_. Dean took a moment to lean through the open passenger door window and crank the stereo volume up to eleven. He was still crouched in the car when he heard a gruff, familiar voice from behind him.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped and banged his head on the roof of the car.

“Sonofabitch,” Dean hissed. He carefully extracted himself from the car before turning to face his visitor. “Cas? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Dean, I have to speak quickly.”

“But wait, why would…?” Dean trailed off, casting a glance around his surroundings again. He looked at little Sammy and then down at himself, still aged thirty-six. He quickly caught up to speed. “This is a dream. Damn, it has been a while since you’ve invaded the privacy and sanctity of my mind, Cas.”

“I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t an emergency,” Castiel said with a frown and a barely contained eye roll. “Where are you and Sam?”

“Uh, we’re finishing up a job in…” Dean wracked his brains, “Blackwell. Blackwell, Oklahoma. At a motel called The Cowboy Corral, room 347.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Dean.”

“Cas, is everything okay? Are you –“

Dean woke abruptly in his crappy, queen sized motel bed. He stared at the rotating fan on the darkened ceiling for a moment before reaching over for his phone on the nightstand to see if Cas had tried to reach him that way first. No missed calls or texts. Strange, but Dean was certain that had really been Cas in his dream and not a figment of his subconscious. He called Cas’ number but it went straight to voicemail. He sent off a quick text to Cas, just in case, and then checked the time. It was 2:17 am. He looked over at the lanky form of his still sleeping brother in the other bed and sighed. They’d been up almost three days straight dealing with this nest of vamps in Blackwell. Dean rolled back over and closed his eyes. Just a few more hours and he would try Cas again.

\---

Dean woke up the second time to sunlight that was streaming in through the dingy, green curtains hanging over their window. The weak, early morning glow projected a sliver of muted, off-color light onto the equally dingy carpeting. Dean never liked the motels that had carpeted floors; he preferred linoleum or tile, anything you could throw a heavy duty bucket o’ bleach on. He just got the impression that carpet was never truly clean. He always kept his socks on so his bare feet would never touch the floor.

Sam was already out of bed and brushing his teeth in the bathroom. Dean rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes before checking his phone. Still no missed messages. Sam walked out of the bathroom with the toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth.

“Hey, you good to go in a few?” He mumbled through the toothpaste.

“Yup,” Dean replied, his voice still groggy with sleep, “Just give me fifteen minutes.”

Dean was tossing a couple of t-shirts into his duffle bag when somebody knocked on the motel door.

“We’ll be checking out in five minutes,” Sam hollered at the door. However, the knocking didn’t stop. It only became more insistent.

“Sam?” A female voice on other side of the door said. “Dean?”

Dean quirked an eyebrow at Sam. 

“Who the hell is that? Did you pick somebody up last night when I wasn’t looking?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, in all my spare time,” Sam retorted dryly as he crossed the room and opened the door. As soon as the door was cracked a girl about shoulder height came barreling into the room.

“Oh, thank God,” the girl said, “I thought perhaps I had gone to the wrong place.”

“Um, can I help you?” Dean asked. Sam shot Dean a look and Dean made a helpless gesture.

“Dean, it’s me,” the girl said, fixing him with a meaningful stare. Dean looked her over again. She had large blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was fixed into a French braid going down her back. She was probably in her early to mid-twenties and had broad shoulders and extremely muscular thighs, like she might be a gymnast or an athlete. There was something familiar about her, but he Dean couldn’t quite place her.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No, I’m sorry; I suppose you haven’t met her. This,” she said, emphasizing the word by gesturing up and down her body, “is Shae.”

Both boys were silent, still waiting for the part where things started to make sense.

“I,” she gestured towards her heart, “am Castiel.”

This statement was met with more skeptical silence.

“Look,” she said, pulling a pocket knife from the inside pocket of her jacket. She pulled her sleeve about a quarter of the way up her arm and ran the blade across her forearm. The telltale glimmer of blue angel Grace shone from the cut.

“Alright, so you’re an angel, but how do we know you’re Cas?” Sam questioned.

The girl paused and frowned in thought before speaking.

“Dean,” she said, turning to him, “In your dream last night you were outside your home in Lawrence, the song ‘Ramble On’ was playing, and Sam was twelve-years-old.”

“Yeah, that’s Cas,” Dean confirmed.

“Wait, Cas visited your dream last night?” Sam asked, “And you didn’t think to mention it to me?”

“I hadn’t gotten the chance yet,” Dean answered defensively.

“And why am I twelve in your dreams?”

“Maybe because I like remembering the good old days when you didn’t ask so many stupid questions.”

“Um, excuse me, but I think we currently have larger problems at hand,” the girl…Cas interrupted.

“Right, sorry,” Dean apologized, “What is it exactly that’s going on with you?”

“I can explain on the way.”

“Yeah, Cas, where is your car?” Sam asked, pulling the curtain aside to reveal a parking lot that was glaringly devoid of the pimpmobile.   


“I took the bus,” Cas said, “I thought it’d be best to abandon the car for the time being. As much as I love it, my vehicle is somewhat conspicuous.”

“Only somewhat,” Dean agreed.

By the time they had all piled into the Impala and headed on to the interstate Dean was sufficiently weirded out.  There had been some strange crap thrown at him in the past, and he liked to think he had enough experience under the belt now to be able to roll with the punches. Despite this, Dean was finding that nothing could have prepared him for confronting the situation of your best, male friend of many years being shoved into the body of a reasonably attractive, young girl. Vamps, werewolves, and ghosts were all fine and dandy but, dammit, Dean had never signed up for this.

 “So, uh…Cas, where am I heading?” Dean asked, clearing his throat and trying to keep his eyes on the road instead of wandering to the image of the girl in the rearview mirror.

“Joliet, Illinois,” Cas said, “I did some research and there was a recent report of two homicides where the victims’ eyes were burned out. It’s not much to go on, but my instincts are telling me it’s the right track.”

“We can get there by nightfall,” Sam remarked with a shrug, “Worth checking out, even if it’s not what we’re after.

“Alright, Joliet it is then. Ya gonna tell us what’s happening then, pal? What with the whole…being a chick thing?”

Sam pursed his lips and gave him a trademark bitch face, like Dean was being insensitive or something. Dean ignored him.

“Yes, I apologize for having to spring this on the both of you,” Cas began, “I’ve been forced to temporarily vacate my vessel. And now it’s been taken from me.”

“Someone took Jimmy?” Dean asked.

“Well, technically it’s not really Jimmy anymore. He’s been gone for many years. But yes, Jimmy’s body has been hidden and is probably rotting somewhere as we speak.”

“That’s an extremely disturbing mental image,” Dean said. This earned another silent bitch face from Sam.

“Okay, but why would somebody take your vessel, Cas?” Sam asked, “This whole thing isn’t making a lot of sense.”

“I believe there are still some rogue angels left on Earth; ones who, understandably, take issue with me.For a time Hannah and I were working on returning these angels to Heaven but that’s a mission I eventually had to abandon. I didn’t think there were many angels left here, certainly not any dangerous ones, but I was wrong. There were two who started tailing me a few weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you call us then?” Dean reprimanded.

“I thought I could handle it,” Cas said regretfully, “But the other night I woke up and my body was paralyzed. I think it must have been a spell. I knew they were coming and I didn’t have enough power to fight them off. However, I did have enough remaining Grace to leave my vessel and find a new one. Though once it was safe to return Jimmy was already gone.”

“So who is this then, the poor girl you’re wearing?” Dean asked, fixing a glare at Cas in the rearview mirror. Cas stared guiltily out of the window.

“This is Shae Novak, Jimmy’s niece.”

“Wait, is this Claire’s cousin?” Dean finally put the puzzle piece together. “ _That’s_ why you look so familiar. She looks just like Claire.”

“Yes, she is. Claire would have been the more obvious choice as a vessel, seeing as she’s the direct bloodline, but that’s just not something…” Cas fiddled with her thumbs in her lap, “that’s not something I could ask of her.”

“We get it,” Sam said.

“I promised Shae I would only need her for a few days at most,” Cas explained, “Even then she’s not strong enough to contain me for an extended period of time.”

“And how strict is that time period exactly?” Dean asked, bristling up for the inevitable bomb drop.

“Two weeks before she starts showing damage. Beyond that she could contain me for little while but there would be permanent harm to the vessel. In six to nine weeks we would both explode.”

“…Could be worse,” Dean decided after careful consideration. “We’ve done more with less.”

“So, just so we’re all on the same page here, the general plan is to drive out to Joliet where we are assuming Jimmy’s body is being kept?” Sam looked over his shoulder back at Cas for confirmation. Cas nodded her assent. “Okay, then we hopefully take out the angel bad guys that are after you. Do you happen to know who they are by any chance?”

“Their names are Amal and Mara. I only met them a few times in Heaven. They were a much lower rank than me,” Cas said.

“You’ll be able to recognize them when you see them though?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright, so we gank the angels, get Cas back into Jimmy, and send Shae on home. Easy.”

Dean snorted.

“Something to add, Dean?” Sam glared.

“Easy,” Dean repeats. “That was a good joke, Sam.”

“Why shouldn’t it be, Dean?” Sam sighed.

“Because we know better, man,” Dean argued. “We know better than to just assume everything is going to go our way.”

“That’s why we can plan for every possible outcome; we just needed a working plan to get going. Why are you being so cynical?”

Dean didn’t deign to answer, preferring to keep his eyes laser locked on the road for the next nine hours or so. He heard the “Huff of Disappointment” from somewhere in his brothers direction. Cas kept quiet in the backseat, and after a few minutes Dean checked the mirror to find that he…she…he had already conked out and was fast asleep. This left Dean with just the appropriate amount of silence to contemplate the unfairness of it all.  

They arrived in Joliet sometime after seven that night. They found a small, local diner for dinner that advertised the best homemade pies in Illinois. Dean was pretty sure the blueberry filling in his slice had come from a can, but he still couldn’t complain. After dinner they all agreed to get started looking for Jimmy in the morning. They found an inconspicuous motel off the highway and pulled in for the night. When they started unloading and getting ready for bed Dean noticed a problem.

“Sam,” Dean said.

“Hmm?”

“There are only two beds.”

“Yeah, two queens, just like we always…” Sam stopped short, looking over at Cas, then back at Dean, “Oh.”

“Uh huh.”

“Let me just, uh, I’ll go talk to the motel manager. Maybe they’ve got a rollaway we can use,” Sam said, rushing out of the room.

“I’m not sure I understand the issue,” Cas said, squinting her eyes and cocking her head to the side in a quizzical expression. The physical characteristic Dean had so long associated with Cas looked very out of place on this female body, so much so that it actually stunned Dean into silence. “Dean? What’s the matter?”

“Sorry,” Dean blinked, “Uh, there are only two beds.”

“Right, you said that.”

“Well there are three of us.”

“Very well,” Cas acknowledged, going to sit on the edge of one of the beds, “But I think one of these beds could potentially occupy two people.”

“Um, I’m sure they could, but uh, I just don’t think…” Dean made a vague gesture in the air in lieu of words, trying to think of exactly how to put it.

“Oh, I think I realize,” Cas said, “It would make you uncomfortable to share.”

“Yes, that,” Dean sighed, grateful Cas had caught on. At that moment Sam returned to the room.

“Hey, so they said they’d given away the last rollaway for the night,” Sam said with a pained expression.

“That’s alright Sam. I think Dean has explained it,” Cas said, standing back up from the bed.

“Explained what?” Sam asked.

“You both need the beds,” Cas said understandingly, “I’ll just take the floor.”

“What?” Sam looked accusingly over at Dean

“No, that is not what I meant, Cas,” Dean retorted.

“You told him…her…him…” Sam spluttered.

“If it’s easier you can continue to use male pronouns,” Cas interjected.

“Ah, thank you. You told him to sleep on the floor? What the hell, Dean?”

“I really don’t mind,” Cas shrugged.

“No, Sam that is not what I said. And we are not letting _you_ sleep on the floor,” Dean said with vehemence.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a,” Dean spluttered, “You’re a –“

“Because I’m a what, exactly?” Cas glowered.

“A girl!” Dean shouted.

“A girl?” Cas said incredulously, eyebrows raised practically up to his hairline. “Dean, you do realize I am still the same person. Furthermore, I am technically a genderless, sentient manifestation of divinity. You know this.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like being reminded,” Dean said petulantly.

That granted Dean an angry eye roll/sigh combo that was so like the old Castiel it was disturbing. Cas closed his fists by his side and advanced towards Dean.

“You don’t like being reminded that I’m not human, like you, Dean? Does this form disturb you? You don’t like hearing me speak through someone else’s mouth?” Cas inquired, his voice dangerously low.

“No, _no_ , that’s not it.”

“Then what? I am older than this Earth and I have worn many faces in that time. But you’d forgotten, hadn’t you? You just like to keep me in this safe little box of who I appear to be and you don’t like that to be challenged, do you?”

“No, Jesus Christ, I just –“

“You just what, Dean?”

Dean clenched his jaw and looked Cas in the eye.

“I just want to go to bed. You take that one, Sam and I will share this one.”

“What? Dean-” Sam started to protest.

“Unless you want to take the floor.” Dean glared at Sam.

Sam pouted but didn’t say anything more. Cas shot Dean one last scathing look before storming over to the bed, kicking off his shoes, and diving under the covers with his back facing them. Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face before doing the same in his own bed. A moment later the bed creaked as Sam sat down on the other side and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. Dean had to scoot over to accommodate his giant brother. This was nothing like when they were kids in a motel room with Dad. There was lots of awkward kicking as they shifted positions and mutterings of “sorry” in the darkness. It probably would’ve been easier to camp out on the floor, but Dean was too stubborn to do anything about it now.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

 

The next morning Dean was awoken by the jostling of the bed as Sam attempted to silently sneak out on his morning jog. Dean briefly slipped back into sleep afterwards, but soon light started to stream through the curtains and he was roused back into consciousness. He could hear the light padding of Cas’ feet across the carpeting and the gurgling of the coffee pot. Dean smiled inwardly, still amused by the angel’s unexpected fondness for java. Then Dean recalled the previous night’s argument and his stomach churned with discomfort.

He shouldn’t have shut down like he had; like he always does. Would it kill him to be a little empathetic every now and then? That was usually Sam’s job, but this was _Cas_. Surely Dean could scrounge up a bit of effort where his one real friend was concerned?

Yeah. Cas was a chick at the moment, and maybe it freaked Dean out a little. But imagine how Cas must feel actually having to be the chick. That couldn’t be easy. Sure, Dean had been driving for hours last night and was exhausted, but that shouldn’t be an excuse. He shouldn’t have snapped at Cas and he should have communicated better. Christ. Was this what being an adult was like? Dean finally opened his eyes as he thought of the best way to form his apology.

Dean hadn’t realized that in his moment of emotional turmoil Cas had slipped into the bathroom. Dean noticed the coffee had stopped brewing so he made his way to the kitchenette to pour a mug for himself and for Cas and sat down at the tiny table, setting Cas’ mug at the seat across from his. Dean looked across to the clock on the microwave to see it was about a quarter past seven, which gave him about fifteen minutes alone with Cas to sort this thing out before Sam came back.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to five minutes, Cas emerged from the bathroom wearing the same clothes from yesterday but looking a little freshened up. Dean frowned, trying to place what he had done differently. Giving up, he said,

“I got your coffee. You just take it black, right?”

Cas started, apparently not expecting Dean to speak to him. He glanced down at the mug, then up at Dean, and then back at the mug.

“I didn’t spike it with anything, man, it’s just coffee,” Dean said with an air of exasperation. Then he remembered he was supposed to be practicing patience. He pinched the bridge of his noise and sighed. “Look, Cas, sit down and drink your coffee. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Cas still took a beat of hesitation before sitting down and gingerly raising the cup to his mouth, testing the temperature. He blew on the surface a few times then took a small sip, closing his eyes and seemingly really enjoying the flavor of this crappy motel coffee. Dean allowed the corner of his mouth to tug up into a private smile, vowing one day he’d take Cas to Seattle or something and get him a proper cup of joe. That would really knock the guy’s socks off.

“What for?” Cas asked, setting his mug down.

“Hmm?” Dean said, interrupted from his coffee-road-trip daydream.

“You said you were sorry. What for?” Cas asked.

“For last night,” Dean said, barreling right into it before he could chicken out. “I’m sorry about the things I said. I’m supposed to be helping you not…undermining your issues.”

“Undermining my issues?” Cas repeated, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected phrasing.

“Yeah, I know, that’s a little too Dr. Phil for me, but I googled some articles a while back about expressing yourself in a healthy way or whatever, it was a slow night in the bunker and…you know what? Never mind, that ain’t the point. The point is I should try to be a little more understanding. We’re all just trying to make the best of bad situation here.”

Cas stared down into his coffee, a thoughtful frown on his face as he made little currants in the dark liquid with a spoon.

“Wow, Dean,” he finally said, “That was very…mature of you.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean winked, “Moments already over. I’ll be back to poor insight and dick jokes in no time.”

Cas actually smiled. Just a small smile, and his gaze was still lowered, but Dean counted it as a win.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, at last looking up and making eye contact.

“S’all good,” Dean said, standing to finish the last dregs of his coffee before putting the used mug in the sink. “And for the record,” Dean felt the need to add with an awkward cough, “I don’t want to keep you in a box or whatever. I like you just bein’ you, whatever that happens to mean. Wings ‘n all.”

Dean cleared his throat again, signaling the end of their uncomfortable heart to heart. Cas didn’t reply, but when Dean turned around he was smiling into his coffee again. Dean wished he could be the one putting the smile there all the time instead of usually being the one to take it away.

As Dean crossed behind Cas to go and receive the duffle from under his bed he finally realized what was different.

“You…you braided her hair?” Dean asked, glancing at the tiny braids pulled back from the front of his face to the center of the back of his head. These braids then joined a larger, more elaborate multi-weave braid that swung all the way down between his shoulder blades.

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Cas said, reaching for the braid and pulling it over his shoulder, “Something I learned a while back. You may not know this, Dean, but I am a man of many useful skills such as this.” Cas threw Dean a playful smirk.

“Oh, so now you’re gonna get cute with me, huh?” Dean teased as he fished in his bag for clean Fed threads. “What’s the story then, Barbershop?”

“There was a brief time I spent on Earth inhabiting the vessel of a Lady, and I mean that as a title, in the latter half of the 5th century. Lovely era, though a bit unhygienic. Lovely woman too, dark hair and olive skin, you would have liked her Dean. I only stayed a few weeks to complete my mission, but in that time I managed to learn a few things from my handmaiden about the braiding. I loved that something that held such practicality and could be solely utilitarian had evolved into an art form, a thing of beauty. It’s one of my favorite traits to be found in humans, I think.”

Dean sniffed a white button-up, shrugged, and threw it on over his head. As he pulled on his black suit jacket he turned back towards Cas. Cas had a wistful expression on his face now, distant.

“Huh,” Dean said, “I guess I’d never really bothered to think about hair-dos in a historical context. You should do a braidy thing for Sammy sometime.”

Cas snickered.

“What was your earthly mission that time? Back in your Lady of the High Court days?” Dean asked as he ran the tap and started to brush his teeth.

“Oh, it was some rumor of a…a Holy Grail, if I remember correctly. Not something of massive importance, I’m sure, but I carried out my duties regardless.”

Dean gagged on his toothbrush.

“Da Ho-ee Graah?!” He said through his mouth full of toothpaste.

“Hey guys,” Sam said, reentering the motel room in his jogging gear, sweat dampened hair plastered to his forehead. He looked back between Cas’ smug face and the toothpaste drool slowly making it’s way down Dean’s incredulous face. “Uh…everything alright?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Cas said lightly.

“Well good,” Sam said as he cracked open a bottle of Gatorade, “I’m just gonna grab a shower then we should start hitting up leads. First though I’ll have to stop at Kinko’s and get Cas another Fed badge. Here, Cas, can you just stand against that wall real quick so I can snap a pic with my phone? Yeah, just there. Like the new hair, by the way.” Cas smirked over at Dean. “Ok, one, two, three…got it. Thanks.”

“Thank you, Sam. Sorry about the whole…different face thing. I still cherish my old FBI badge.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Dean, you should probably get him down somewhere for more appropriate clothes, and then we’ll meet up at the local P.D. okay?” Sam said as he entered the bathroom and started the water for his shower.

“Yup, sure thing,” Dean said, grabbing his wallet, badge and keys. “Let’s hit the road, pal.”

\---

“Do you think they have this in a size 6?” Cas asked, holding up a skimpy red dress in front of his body to judge the size. Dean had dragged him into an outlet mall a couple of blocks away from the motel. They’d visited a few stores already but their efforts had been less than fruitful.

“What? Cas, no, no, that’s not exactly what we’re looking for,” Dean said, hastily putting the atrocity back on the rack. A pretty, brunette sales associate that Dean had eyed on his way in knowingly grinned in their direction. Dean gave her a small wave before realizing that in this scenario it would appear that he was the gay best friend shopping with his gal pal. He frowned and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Then what, ‘exactly’,” Cas air-quoted, “are women are supposed to wear?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest in irritation.

“Well first of all, you’re a professional woman, not a lady of the night. You probably want something more along the lines of a blazer and a knee-length skirt or some slacks. I wonder if you need pantyhose…”

Cas squinted in confusion.

“Just give me a minute. I’ll find you something,” Dean sighed.

They walked out an hour later with Cas wearing a dark navy suit with a light pink, pinstriped blouse underneath and a blue tie around his neck. A second suit, a pencil skirt, and three more blouses filled the heavy shopping bags that were weighing down their arms. Dean had tried to explain to Cas that women didn’t wear ties, that it was more of a guy thing. Cas had expounded something about unfair gender norms and modern societal constructs and “this tie looks _just_ like the one I used to have, Dean, _please_ Dean.” Dean had relented and bought the tie. Though when Dean tried to get Cas into a pair of sensible heels he’d only received a death glare in response.

They met Sam in the police department parking lot, Sam grandly bequeathing Cas’ new badge to him, before strolling into the building with their story already cooked up.

“Can I help you?” asked the officer working the front desk, a young man with ginger hair and a face that was more freckles than features. His nametag read “Buckley.”

“Yes, my name is Agent Lifeson,” Sam said, flashing his badge. Cas and Dean copied the motion behind him. “These are my partners, Agents Lee and Peart. Here to investigate the deaths of Alice Monroe and Charles Donoghue.”

“Oh, _oh,_ ” Officer Buckley swallowed nervously, “The two with the…?” He gestured to his eyes.

“That’d be them,” Dean said.

“Sure, sure, just give me a sec,” he said. After a few moments on the phone he looked up and said, “Detective Greyson can meet you at the morgue. Will that be all, agents?”

“That’s all, thanks,” Sam said. As they turned to exit Buckley called out to them.

“Wait, do you guys think it might be a…a serial killer or something cool like that?” Buckley asked hopefully.

“Cool your jets, Dexter, you know we can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you,” Dean said sternly, but then accompanied his statement with a wink. Buckley’s face lit up as he mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key.

“Psycho,” Dean muttered as they exited the building.

 

“So how’d the feds pick this one up?” Detective Greyson asked as she slid open the refrigerated compartments that held the cadavers. She was a tall, statuesque woman with a stern face and skin the color of coffee.

“Worked a similar case a couple months back,” Sam explained, “never caught the perp, so we thought we’d see if we could connect the dots. We think it might be a man and a woman working together, you pick up on anything like that?”

“Man and a woman together, huh? No, we haven’t seen anything that would hint at that, but we’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thanks, we appreciate it.”

“Well, here’s vic number one,” she indicated an elderly black woman, “and vic number two.” She pointed to a middle aged man with a receding hairline. “Would this be your kind of thing?” She asked, nodding to the two corpses whose eyes were burned clear out of their sockets. Sam and Dean both differed to Cas to answer the question.

“Yeah,” Cas swallowed, “this is our kind of thing.”

The detective’s phone began to buzz in her pocket and she answered briskly,

“Greyson.” She listened for a moment then angled the phone away from her mouth, “Excuse me agents, I have to take this. Just roll the bodies back in when you’re done.”

She exited the room as Cas leaned in further to examine the bodies.

“So, I guess we can confirm that heavenly powers were at work here,” Dean said, making a face at the grotesque scorch marks.

“Yeah, but it’s not like angels to just kill at random,” Sam said, looking through the coroner’s reports on the two victims, “I can’t even see a connection between the two. Mrs. Monroe was just your average church going, sweet, old lady. And Donoghue over here lived alone and worked for a food delivery company driving a refrigerated truck.”

“Good point, Sammy. Any ideas, Cas?” Dean asked, looking over to the angel. Cas didn’t respond, but just continued gazing forlornly at the corpses. “Cas?” Dean repeated.

“We were supposed to be protectors and defenders of humanity,” Cas answered quietly, “We existed to love you as our Father did.”

“Cas, you alright?” Dean asked, concerned.

“I do love you,” Cas said suddenly, looking desperately into Dean’s eyes. Cas seemed to realize something and quickly backtracked. “Humanity,” he rephrased, “I do love humanity. My brothers sometimes forget that mission, but you’re right Sam. It is unlike angels to kill at random. There has to be a connection.”

“Looks like we’ll need to research this a little further then,” Sam said, wheeling the bodies back into their confines.

“Awesome,” Dean drawled, “Nothing better to do on a Friday night anyway.”

\---

Several hours (and beers and boxes of takeout) later, Dean voted they call it quits for the night and stake out some new leads in the morning. His proposal was met with murmurs of assent from Cas and Sam. As Cas went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, Sam spoke.

“Uh, Dean, not that I don’t love you or anything but…I really can’t share a bed with you for another night, man. We are too old and too tall for this shit.”

“Nah, you’re right. We can alternate nights on the floor. I’ll take tonight.”

Dean was setting up camp with an extra blanket and pillows on the floor space between the two beds when Cas emerged from the bathroom. He’d removed the braids, leaving a long tangle of wavy blonde hair cascading around and below his shoulders. He was also wearing Dean’s “Eye of the Tiger” t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that Dean had offered for him to sleep in.

Now, there was something that Dean had always thought was sexy about a girl wearing your clothes, and this was no exception. He shoved down the initial attraction, reminding himself that this wasn’t just a girl _this was Cas_ , but then an unbidden picture of Cas in his original vessel wearing Dean’s shirt and boxers surfaced to his brain. Dean decided this image was equally sexy. He didn’t know what to do with this new information, so he grabbed his flask from his duffle and knocked back a couple of swigs before lying down on his oh-so-comfy bit of floor.

About an hour later Dean was still wide awake, staring at a black ceiling. Sam was already dead to the world, softly snoring with his limbs arranged diagonally across the length of the mattress. The alcohol hadn’t helped Dean at all. The floor was still cold and hard and he was unremittingly plagued by images of Cas, both male and female versions, looking awesome in all of Dean’s outfits and undergarments. Dean wondered if this was even the gayest fantasy he had ever had. Doubtful. He briefly considered digging out his flask again for another go.

“Dean?” He suddenly heard a soft voice whisper from the bed to his left. “Dean, are you still awake?”

“Yup.” Dean rolled over to face Cas, who was peering over the edge of his bed and down at Dean. “What’s up buddy?”

“I can’t sleep,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not anywhere near full power right now, so I know this body needs rest. However, I don’t know how you manage to do it as often as you do. There’s still something that’s extremely unsettling about the whole matter of unconsciousness.”

“And I still wish I got the chance to do it more often,” Dean softly chuckled.

“My mind it just…it won’t stop racing. I keep thinking about the angels, about Jimmy. And those poor people in the morgue, I can’t make sense of any of it.” Cas’ brow furrowed with worry before he turned to roll onto his back. The expression was such that for a second Dean clearly saw the old Castiel, his Castiel. Before he could think about it Dean got up and sat on the opposite side of the bed. He told himself it was so they would be closer together and speak more quietly, as to not wake Sam. Well…that’s the story he was sticking to anyway.

“What did you do before, when you were human and couldn’t fall asleep?” Dean prompted.

Cas let out a soft, sardonic laugh.

“I don’t know if you remember as well as I do, Dean, but I was a pretty poor excuse of a human. Maybe even more so than I am as an angel.”

“Hey, man, don’t say shit like that,” Dean quietly admonished.

“Why not?” Cas asked, turning large, blue, owlish eyes on him.

“I know it might seem hypocritical coming from me, but self-loathing is about the least helpful thing you can do in any situation. At any rate it sure as hell don’t make it easier to fall asleep.”

“What helps you fall asleep Dean?” Cas asked hesitantly. Dean was struck, not for the first time, by the kind of childish wonder that could sometimes be seen in this being that was literally thousands upon thousands of years old.

“Well, first I get comfortable and close my eyes,” Dean said, scooching further onto the bed and stretching his legs out in front of him in demonstration.

Cas got the idea and curled onto his side in a fetal position, facing Dean, and then unexpectedly reached out and took a hold of Dean’s forearm. Dean was surprised, but didn’t say anything. It was nice.

“Now what?” Cas asked, his eyes tightly screwed shut. Dean laughed.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I like to think of what I might like to dream about, ya know, in the hopes that once I actually fall asleep I might get to dream it for real.”

“Okay, what should I dream about?”

“Haven’t you had dreams before, Cas? At least one pleasant dream?”

Cas squirmed uncomfortably next to him, making a noncommittal noise. Dean couldn’t tell for sure in the darkness, but he swore he could feel the heat of a blush rising off Cas’ skin.

“Oh my God. You’ve had a sexy dream before, haven’t you Cas?” Dean teased.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Dean. I…I am an Angel of the Lord,” he said stiffly.

“An Angel of the Lord who has dirty dreams,” Dean snickered, “C’mon, who was in it? Pamela Anderson, Anna Nicole? No, wait, it was me wasn’t it? It was totally me.”

Cas opened one eye to peek up at Dean and twisted the corner of his mouth into a mischievous smile.

“Maybe it was Sam,” Cas mocked.

“Ew, gross dude,” Dean said, adding a barf noise and gently nudging Cas with the arm he was still holding on to. Cas fell into a fit of silent giggles. It was remarkably cute. This thought began to sober Dean a little bit.

Before Dean could think of his next move (stay and experience feelings, or flee abruptly from feelings?) Cas squeezed his eyes shut and his hand flew to his temple.

“Wait, Dean, ssshh,” Cas said, “I’m picking up a police scanner from…the next town over. Wilmington, I think.”

“Ok, what are they saying?” Dean asked. He momentarily wondered if it was concerning how quickly he could snap back into business-mode.

“There’s been another murder,” Cas said, meeting Dean’s eyes, “It’s the angels.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Their FBI agent names are taken from the members of the band Rush, my dad's favorite band.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

Dean pulled the Impala into the gravel driveway of a large two story home, already roped off with crime scene tape and swarming with uniforms. Cas was in the backseat, awkwardly tugging at his skirt as he had been the entire drive over.

“Dude, will you stop fiddling with the skirt?” Dean snapped as they got out of the car.

“Are you certain it’s supposed to be this tight?” Cas complained, trying to insert a finger into the waistband to pull it away from his body.

“Yes, man, it’s called a pencil skirt. That’s how they’re supposed to fit.” Sam shot Dean a smirk. “Shut up, Sam.”

“Whoever designs women’s clothing must be a Hell-grade master of torture,” Cas grumbled, “I mean, the undergarments alone…do you know how irritating underwire is?”

“No, Cas, no I do not. Now quit the kvetching, it’s go time.”

The boys flipped open their badges for the officer guarding the crime scene and were let in under the tape. A short, bald man in an overcoat walked up to them, pulling his collar up against the chilly drizzle of rain.  

“Let me guess, they called the feds in already?” the man asked with poorly concealed disdain.

“Yeah, we were working a similar case over in Joliet,” Sam said, “Agent Lifeson, my partners Agents Peart and Lee.”

“Detective Rosenthal,” he said, shaking Sam’s hand. “You guys sure don’t waste any time. Forensics is already inside. The parents are over there.” He pointed to a couple wrapped in a blanket standing next to a patrol car. The man was holding the woman tightly, who was weeping into his shoulder.

“Parents?” Cas asked.

“They didn’t tell you?” The detective asked, “Victim’s a little girl, their daughter.”

The boys shared a grim look.

“I got the parents,” Sam said, “You two take a look inside.”

Dean and Cas followed Detective Rosenthal into the home where they were instructed to wait outside of the little girl’s bedroom, which was still taped off. The detective said the forensics team was just finishing up with the photographs and then he could let them in. Dean anxiously shuffled his feet, trying when he could to peer in and get a look at the room. Meanwhile, Cas busied himself by going through the families knickknacks in the curio cabinet that was situated in the hallway.

“Psst, Cas!” Dean hissed in a stage whisper, trying to cue him to quit dicking around with other people’s stuff. Cas ignored him as he picked up a framed portrait and stared at it inquisitively.

“This doesn’t appear to be a member of the family,” he said.

Dean gave him a blank stare.

“Uh, no dude. That’s Jesus.”

“Jesus of Nazareth?” Cas questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “That Jesus?”

“Yes, that Jesus!” Dean replied, incredulous. “Son of God, rose from the dead, had that nifty party trick where he could turn water into wine. Any other clarification you could possibly need?”

Cas gave another long look at the portrait, made a “hmph” noise, and then returned it to the cabinet.

“Not to judge or anything man but, as a somewhat Angel of the Lord shouldn’t you know what your Lord’s son looks like?” Dean asked.

“Well that’s just the thing,” Cas pondered, “the man in that picture looks absolutely nothing like him.”

“Really?” Dean asked, now picking up and inspecting the image himself. It was a fairly generic portrait. He had White robe, crown of thorns, and a look of either peace or boredom in those soulful blue eyes. “So, the guy you knew, none of these flowing blonde locks and lily white complexion then?”

“Yes, the Jesus I knew of had very brown skin, dark eyes, and curly brown hair that he kept relatively short; otherwise it’d be unmanageably poufy. And a rather scruffy beard if I recall correctly.”

“Wait…” Dean paused, barely containing his grin, “are you tellin’ me…Jesus had a Jew-fro?”

“Uh, yes, I supposed he did Dean.”

“Awesome.”

“Alight you two,” the detective said lifting up the tape and granting them access, “They’re just about finished in here. You know the rules; please don’t touch, please don’t move, and please don’t fuck up my crime scene. “

Dean finally got a full view of the girl’s room. The walls were painted lavender and plastered with drawings and school achievement certificates. There was a bed in the center of the room that had so many stuffed animals on it there was hardly even room for a girl to sleep. Above the bed written in large block letters the name “KIRSTEN” was spelled out and an ornate, white crucifix hung under it.

On the floor to the left of the bed was the girl; her eyes burned out, dressed in a “Frozen” nightgown , and blonde hair fanned out underneath her in long golden tendrils, circling her head like some sad makeshift halo. She couldn’t have been older than seven.

“Dude,” Dean muttered, at a loss for words.

“Let me look at her,” Cas demanded, shooing a forensics man with a camera out of his way. He received a glare, but the man moved. Cas kneeled next to Kirsten and placed a gentle hand on the side of her pale face.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean heard Cas whisper, “I don’t know why this happened to you.”

Dean placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder. Cas stood back up silently and allowed Dean to walk him out of the house. Once they were back outside Dean spotted Sam still speaking to Kirsten’s parents.

“I didn’t hear anything,” the mother kept repeating over and over, “I just woke up and I knew, I _KNEW_ my daughter was in trouble.”

“And that’s when you saw the bright light coming from her room,” Sam prompted.

“Yes,” she said, choking down a sob, “I saw the light and as soon as it was there it was gone. When I got to the room she was on the floor and I…” she trailed off. The woman was distraught; her husband rubbing soothing circles over her back in a nonverbal display of comfort. The husband sat his wife down on the bumper of the car since the color had very rapidly drained from her face. She raised trembling fingers to her mouth and just stared into the distance, her sobs and sighs ghosting through her lips and forming small, puffy clouds in the frigid air.

“And you what, darling? What were you about to say?” her husband asked.

“And I…” she shakily began. She looked up and made eye contact for the first time. Her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, tears staining her cheeks. She gave a small hiccough and finally spoke with her voice in a violent whisper, “ _I never heard her scream_.”

“But you never saw anybody else? Nobody in the house or your yard?” Sam pressed.

The woman shook her head no.

“Rest assured, ma’am, we’ll be doing everything in our power to get whoever did this,” Dean said earnestly.

The woman laughed darkly.

“And what good would that do?” She asked bitterly.

“Hopefully, bring you closure,” Sam said. The woman scoffed. “At the very least bring the murderer to justice so they won’t harm anybody else.”

“My daughter,” she repeated, suddenly shrill, “is _dead!_ ” she spat. Her husband was calmly trying to shush her. There was talk from the nearby paramedics that she might be having a panic attack. “ _AND I NEVER HEARD HER SCREAM!”_

She erupted into a violent fit of sobs while EMT’s held her down to get an oxygen mask on her and possibly pump her full of sedatives. Sam, Dean, and Cas took this as their cue to leave.

\---

The boys spent the next four days chasing the angels down through Gardner, Dwight, and ended up in Odell, Illinois, but the angels always seemed to be one step ahead. There had been three more victims as well, one in each town. A man who ran a food drive, a college aged boy studying the organ, and a stay-at-home mother of two. There continued to be seemingly no connection between the victims, or why there was only one per town. It was late one evening as the boys were holed up at a motel in Odell. Sam was on the laptop, looking through the recent police reports of all the towns within a thirty mile radius. Again. Dean and Cas were looking over all the case notes, news articles, and maps. Again. Dean was on his third beer by the time Sam spoke up.

“Hey, you guys, remember one of those first vics in Joliet; the guy who drove the food delivery truck?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, keeping his eye trained on the roadmap he’d been staring at for at least an hour.

“Well, a squad car just reported a stolen refrigerated truck outside of a convenience store in Pontiac, registered to the vic.”

“So, what, you think the angels have been driving around his truck?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Stranger things, dude.”

“Wait, where did you say they found the truck?” Cas asked.

“In…Pontiac.” Sam made a face, suddenly struck by realization.

“Jesus, of course,” Dean said, looking back down at the map, mentally kicking himself.

“Where Jimmy is from,” Cas sighed. “They’re not running from us, they wanted us to find them.”

“They’ve probably been heading there the whole time,” Dean scowled, then another thought occurred to him, “Oh my God, the refrigerated truck.”

“What about it?” Sam asked.

“Jimmy’s body. Remember Cas said it was probably rotting somewhere? What if they’ve just been keeping it on ice for him?”

“What, you mean they’ve been…preserving it in the truck for him?” Sam thought for a moment. “Ok, maybe, but why would they do that?”

“Well, it’s not the vessel they want, is it?” Cas said, “They want me. They knew I would need my original vessel back, they’re most likely keeping it in order to set a trap for me in Pontiac.”

“Ok, well then, we’ll have to smart about this. We’ll drive into Pontiac tomorrow morning and scope out possible places they could be keeping Jimmy. Then we’ll make a plan to get the body back. This is good guys; I think we can finally wrap this up.”

“Alright, awesome,” Dean said, getting up from his chair, “In that case, it is only ten p.m. so I am going out and getting myself a drink.”

“You know what?” Sam said, shutting his laptop, “I’ll come too. I could use it.”

“Really?” Dean said, surprised, “Proud of you, Sammy. You comin’ too, Cas?”

“I suppose,” Cas shrugged.

“Cool, boys’ night out,” Dean said, and then took another look back at Cas’ female form, “Well, kind of.”

\---

They didn’t have to look too far for a bar of their liking. There was a small place down the road that looked like the kind of skeezy joint they usually frequented; where the wood paneled walls smelled like smoke and the liquor was cheap. The atmosphere was familiar enough that Dean was able to unwind almost immediately as he approached the bar and asked the bartender for three whiskeys served neat.

Sam started up a game of pool to teach Cas how to play, but Dean took a pass and sat at the bar to watch. This case had been pressing on him more than the usual case did. He’d also been having a lot more trouble sleeping. He figured it was the personal attachment and the fact his best friend’s life was literally at stake. Still, that didn’t account for how high-strung Dean had felt lately. He knew it had something more to do with Cas. He asked for a refill on his whiskey.

He’d run the thought over and over in his head a thousand times over the past few nights. He knew he was attracted to Cas. There was no other way he could explain the tightness in his chest (or pants, if he was being honest) whenever he saw him, the racing of his heart or, however cliché it was, the literal butterflies in his stomach. He knew he’d been having these feelings relating to Cas for years, but they’d always been so easy to repress before. He was concerned that the new escalation in these feelings was only because Cas was now a woman, that he was only attracted to the vessel. So, per usual, he’d tried to push the feelings down and ignore them.

However, lately he’d been able to put a pattern together. Whenever he got these feelings, it was usually when Cas did something that reminded him of his old vessel. The way his head would tilt at an odd angle, the way his jaw clenched or his fists would ball up in emotion. The phrasing of his speech and expressions on his face were just so unmistakably Castiel. Even now, as Cas squinted determinedly down at the cue ball, Dean couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face. In that moment he realized what he had been suppressing all week; it wasn’t Cas’ bodies that he was attracted to. It was just Cas. All these things he had taken for granted as being mannerisms of Jimmy’s vessel were Cas all along. He just liked Cas. He asked for another refill on his whiskey.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” the bartender commented with a raised eyebrow, though she refilled the drink anyway. “Rough night?” Dean swiveled his bar stool so he could face the girl properly. She had long, shiny black hair, bronze skin, a nose ring, and wore thick, black eyeliner. She was the kind of girl who could probably flash a smile or just show some extra cleavage in exchange for more tips, so she didn’t have to talk to Dean, which made him think she genuinely wanted to know what was on his mind.

“More like a rough week.” He took a thoughtful sip. “Or, if we really wanted to get into it, a pretty rough life.”

The girl snickered.

“Well, I always say we just gotta take these things one day and one drink at a time.” She wiped down the area of the bar near Dean before pouring herself a glass.

“Amen,” Dean concurred, raising his glass up to hers. She returned the gesture.

“Nadia,” she introduced herself, extending her hand.

“Dean,” he said with a tight smile, shaking her offered hand.

Nadia leaned forward with both her elbows on the bar as she took another sip of her drink.

“So, who’s your beef with? Wait, don’t tell me. I like to guess, I’m naturally intuitive.” She said with a wink. Dean just sort of shrugged with his palms facing upwards in a permissive gesture. 

“Be my guest.”

Nadia smiled and looked over to the corner where Dean had been obsessively eyeing Cas and Sam playing pool.

“So, that’d be your buddy?” she asked, nodding towards Sam.

“Uh, brother, actually,” Dean corrected.

“Ah, the plot thickens,” she smirked, “Then that’s your girlfriend over there…hmm, maybe a sort of love triangle situation? Both you and your brother are sweet on the same girl? That could get real awkward real fast.”

“It could, but that’s not the issue here,” Dean said, playing along.

“Ok, well that was just my first guess. I always have it by the third one.”

Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Here,” she pursed her lips, “I’ll put my money where my mouth is. I’ll be spot on by the third guess or you and your friend’s drinks are all on the house.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that. He looked down at his once again empty glass. He should probably be keeping better control of how much he was drinking, but right now he was in the perfect zone, just on the sweet side of buzzed.

 “Alright then, Sherlock, deduce away.”

“Well, there’s some tension between you and your brother right now but that’s not the focal point of the conflict I’m picking up,” She said, biting her lip and frowning as she danced her dark, brown eyes back and forth over the scene. “So it’s you and the blonde having the issue?”

Dean gave a noncommittal nod of the head. Nadia raised her impeccably groomed eyebrows in shock.

“You love her,” she said with finality, “you love her and she doesn’t know.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Dean grumbled into his glass, only to remember it was empty. He held the glass out to Nadia and she refilled it on impulse.

“So, you and her, you’re friends,” Nadia amended, “best friends, probably for years. You don’t wanna mess up a good thing by bringing up your feelings, right?”

“I guess,” Dean swallowed nervously. The alcohol was starting to hit his brain pretty hard and things were getting fuzzy.

“And these feelings are new to you, I bet. You’re a drifter who’s only ever had to use ‘em and lose ‘em. You only recently realized she wasn’t just a friend to you and that for the first time you wanted something more.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, taking another deep swallow as he stared at Cas from across the room. His eyes were starting to glass over so he turned back to Nadia. “Damn, you are good. Your drink’s on me.”

She did a little mock curtsey behind the counter, holding out her apron like you would a skirt.

“Now I’m gonna switch you to beer, and you can tell me all about her,” Nadia said kindly, taking the almost empty glass from his hand and replacing it with a bottle of El Sol.

“Hi- uh, their…their name is Cas,” he said hesitantly, and then just the act of saying the name warmed his tongue and relaxed the muscles around his mouth into a smile. He repeated more confidently, “Their name is Cas.” 

Dean spent the next forty-five minutes telling Nadia everything he loved about Cas. The way he’d always been there for him. All of the sacrifices he’d made for him, how he’d been like family to Dean for years and never put up with any of Dean’s bullshit. Dean knew he was probably making goo-goo eyes the whole time he was speaking but he was too drunk to care.

“Man,” Nadia finally said, “you are fucking head over heels.”

“Am not,” Dean snorted.

“Yes, you fucking are. And I think you should tell her.”

“No,” Dean violently shook his head, “not gonna happen.”

“Why the hell not? I’ve been watching her when your back is turned, she makes the same stupid lovey faces that you do,” Nadia retorted.

“Really?” Dean asked, resisting the urge to turn around and look back at Cas, more excited that Cas might feel the same way than he was offended by being accused of making “stupid lovey faces.”

“Yes, really. Now, I have to clock out but if you don’t talk to her before the night is over I will be very disappointed in you,” Nadia said, folding up her apron.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Well, thanks for listening, Nadia,” Dean said gratefully.

“My pleasure, Dean. Come back sometime, I wanna hear how it goes,” she said with a smile before leaving through the back door with a little wave. Dean waved back and looked down at his beer for lack of something better to do.

“I thought you were going to leave with her,” Cas said from directly behind him. Dean jumped.

“Yeesh, Cas, you can’t sneak up on a guy like that,” Dean complained.

“Sorry,” Cas shrugged. He did not sound very sorry.

“Why’d you think I was going home with her?” Dean asked, very carefully trying not to slur his words. He was also very carefully trying not to stare at Cas’ mouth. Or be completely distracted by Cas in general.

“You’ve been talking and drinking with her all night,” Cas said, trying to sound nonchalant. “As I understand it that’s what two people in a bar do when they have ulterior motives.”

“Uh, regrettably, you probably learned that from watching me. But no, that ain’t always the case, Cas.”

Cas harrumphed and refused to make eye contact with Dean, but didn’t say anything more.

“Wait, are you jealous?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“What? No,” Cas snapped, straightening his arms and curling his fists defensively at his sides.

“Because, as it turns out, we were talking about you,” Dean said, seizing his opportunity. This was it. He would tell Cas. It would be easy; Dean sweet-talked chicks all the time. Totally in the bag.

“Why would you be talking about me?” Cas asked, frowning in confusion.

“Well, she made this bet that she was intuitive or whatever and I was like ‘No, you’re definitely not,’ and she was like ‘Yeah, I totally am, give me three guesses,’ and I was like-“ Dean cut himself off, Cas clearly wasn’t following, “I mean, I’m paraphrasing,” Dean explained, “But, bottom line, she guessed that I was into you.”

“Into me how?” Cas narrowed his eyes further.

“That I dig you, Cas. I like you. I mean, I _like you_ like you. And she was right; I even paid for her drink.” The small portion of Dean’s consciousness that was still sober knew he wasn’t making a lick of sense. Regardless, all that drunk-Dean cared about was getting his confession out. Meanwhile, Cas’ body had frozen stiff.

“Dean, you’re drunk,” Cas said. His voice had gone completely chilly.

“No, Cas, no,” Dean haphazardly got off his bar stool, “Ok, maybe a lil’, but Cas I know what I’m saying. I’m super into you. I think you’re just…you are so awesome.”

“Dean, stop, I don’t want to hear this.” Cas curled his upper lip in frustration and fear then started to back away. Dean grabbed him by both arms, so he would have to stay and hear him out.

“Cas you are…so smart and…so cool…and you’re beautiful, so beautiful.” Dean hadn’t actually been thinking of a specific aspect of Cas that was beautiful at the time he’d said the words, but now that he’d spoken them he caught himself once again looking at Cas’ pink, full lips. He knew that words weren’t really his forte, but maybe if he could just _show_ Cas how much he liked him... Dean reached a hand down to grab Cas’ hip and tugged him close as Dean bent his head down to kiss Cas. Before their lips could meet, however, Dean was winded by a swift, blunt jab to his groin. He fell to his knees as tears sprung to his eyes in recognition of the pain. Cas was standing above him, breathing hard and looking pissed as hell, but also hurt and full of grief. Cas, for some reason, was crying too. The overwhelming combination of physical and emotional pain probably would have been too much for Dean if he weren’t already completely wasted.

A bunch of guys in the bar had noticed them now, Sam included, and waited to see if they needed to help the small, pretty girl who was getting groped by a drunken asshole. Yet even those that didn’t know they were in fact looking at a fucking seraph about to smite that asshole a new one could still tell that they weren’t needed yet, and stayed stock-still as they watched the scene unfold.

“You know, I thought you might do this.” Cas’ voice shook as he attempted to hold back the tears that were threatening to overflow.

“You thought…I might…?” Dean wheezed out in confusion.

“But then I thought, no,” Cas continued, doing a mock impression of the gruff voice of his old vessel, “Dean respects me. Dean cares about my feelings. He would never look at me differently just because I’m…because I’m…” Cas couldn’t finish his sentence before he hiccupped up a sob.

“Cas, I-“ Dean stuttered, dumbfounded. The only thoughts he had space for in his brain right now were “drunk” and “in pain,” so none of this was making any sense.

“No,” Cas cut him off, “Don’t.” Cas sighed. “I wish I had been wrong, Dean. I wish I knew you as well as I thought I did.”

With that, Cas stormed out of the back of the bar. Dean made to follow him out but then Sam was at his side with a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head no. Sam lead Dean out of the front of the bar, Dean limping slightly as everyone stared on at the damn spectacle. By the time they had reached the door most of the noise had started up again and people went back to their business.

The air that met Dean’s face as he stepped outside was so cold it hurt, but at the same time it was sobering. He and his brother walked through the parking lot in silence until they reached the Impala and took their respective “couple’s therapy” seats on the hood of the car.

“Do you think one of us should go after him?” Dean finally asked.

“No,” Sam answered, “Let’s give him some space for a minute, he seemed pretty upset. I’ll try him later.”

Another moment of awkward silence solidified the tension between them. Then Sam huffed out the “Deep Breath of Preeminent Confrontation” and Dean instinctively got defensive before his brother even said a word.

“Look, Dean-“ Sam began.

“Sam, I-“ Dean said at the same time. Sam sighed and gestured for Dean to continue first.

“I didn’t mean to…upset him, Sam, honestly,” Dean explained, speaking mostly into his hands because his head had suddenly gotten too heavy to be held up on its own.

“What part of feeling up the body of his former vessel’s young niece, while he is wearing her, did you not think would be upsetting?” Sam asked, those judgmental eyebrows of his poised to attack.

“Well I…didn’t exactly think of it that way,” Dean pondered.

“I don’t think you were _thinking_ much at all,” Sam nagged, “not with your ‘upstairs brain’ anyway.”

“I only wanted to tell him how I feel about him,” Dean lamented. He knew if he weren’t this drunk he would sound much less like the whiny girl that didn’t get asked to prom. Unfortunately, there was little to be done about that now except pray Sam doesn’t remind him of this tomorrow morning.

“Yeah, but…wait,” Sam paused and raised a wary eyebrow, “how you _feel_?”

“Yeah, don’t make me say it again,” Dean graveled out.

“Aaawww, Dean Winchestah has feeeeeewings?” Sam crooned in a baby voice. Dean punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ouch! Okay, I deserved that. Not the most appropriate moment. But, Dean, what the hell were you trying to do exactly? What did you say to him?” Sam wasn’t berating him now, just trying to understand where his brother was coming from.

“I just…I’d been talking to the bartender all night and she was all ‘oh I can guess what’s on your mind, it’s that girl and there are unrequited feelings blah, blah, blah’ and I was like ok, you’re right maybe I’ve got a thing for them. And she asked me to tell her about Cas. So I did, about how fucking awesome he is and the millions of ways he’s saved my life, and no matter how bad I fuck up he always forgives me, even when I don’t forgive myself and…“

Dean petered off after realizing in the middle of his confessional that he’d never “officially come out” as…whatever he was...to Sammy before. He’d dropped some pretty unsubtle hints, and Sam was a smart kid, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to the guy. Well, since this was apparently the night for ill-timed personal confessions, it couldn’t hurt to throw this one in there too. Dean took a breath and opened his mouth to begin his formal “So I might be not totally straight” speech and-

“Oh my God,” Sam interrupted, eyes blown wide, “You’re in love with Cas.”

Dean released the breath he’d been holding in. Well, that had been easy.

“That’s basically the conclusion I came to tonight, yes.” Dean quickly grasped that this ‘news’ must have been pretty obvious to all of the people that were close to him, and nobody had said a damn word. He turned on Sammy, “Oh, and thanks for not helping me figure this out fucking years ago, man. That could’ve saved everyone a lot of pain.”

“Year- wait YEARS?” Sam’s mouth literally dropped open with an audible _pop_. He pushed the hair back from his forehead and rested his hands on the top of his head. “That long? So it _doesn’t_ having anything to do with him being a girl,” he said with wonder. “Huh. Wow.”

“Of course it had nothing to do with him being a girl, or lack of being a girl …or human, for that matter. That’s never even been part of the equation ‘til…” Dean’s voice died in his throat. “Does Cas think…?” Dean coughed, “Is he under the impression that I don’t really like him and that I just want to bang his vessel?”

“To be fair, out of context, that’s kind of exactly what it sounds like.” Sam winced in secondhand embarrassment.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean moaned. He then abruptly slid off the edge of the car, got to the ground on all fours, and started to cry before violently puking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: My favorite American Girl growing up was Kirsten. I still have my doll. I don't know why I decided to make her a dead little girl in this fic, clearly I have some childhood issues I need to work through.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Dean didn’t remember much of the rest of the evening. He knew he had somehow made it back to the motel and been put in bed, still clad in jeans and boots. He vaguely remembered Sam and Cas returning later, Cas climbing into the other bed and Sam taking a spot on the floor. Beyond that Dean had been too far gone to know or care.

When Dean woke the next morning his mouth felt like cotton and his head felt like it had been pounded in with a hammer. The thin amount of light streaming in through the window was like a spotlight as he cracked open his eyes. He groaned aloud. His liver was finally protesting from years of abuse. He hadn’t been this hungover in years.

Sam was already out for his morning jog and Cas was still asleep. Dean crept out of bed as quietly as he could, chugged down some ibuprofen, and hit the shower.

The hot water felt good on his sensitized skin. He brushed his teeth while in the shower and began to feel a little more human. He didn’t move from under the water long after he was done washing. He didn’t want to leave the warm cocoon of steam and solitude to have to face his actions from last night. To have to face Cas.

Oh, Christ. Cas.

He ran his hands down his face slowly. What would he even say? Would he say anything at all? How would Cas react?

What if Cas wanted to leave, if he didn’t even want to be around Dean at all anymore? Cas wouldn’t be safe out there with those murderous angels on his ass.

God. Dean had really fucked it up this time.

The water began to run cold, forcing Dean to abandon it’s safety. He pulled on a t-shirt, flannel, and jeans before reentering the room. Cas was awake and dressed and Sam was packing stuff away into their bags.

“Dude,” Sam said, exasperated, “I thought you’d never get out. I’ll rinse off and then we’ll go.”

“Alright,” Dean replied tiredly. Sam’s voice was way too loud.

“There better be some damn hot water left for me,” Sam warned.

“Yeah, should be,” Dean lied.

Sam threw him a disbelieving bitch face and closed the bathroom door behind him.

This just left Dean and Cas alone with nothing but the awkward, weighted silence. Dean went to pack up his things, just for something to keep him busy so he could avoid Cas, but Sam had already done everything. Stupid efficient little brother. So Dean sat on the bed and absentmindedly messed with his phone, like there was something important to do on it.

“Goddammit!” Dean heard Sam hiss from the shower as cold water undoubtedly hit his back.

Cas just stood there by the bed, pointedly not looking at Dean and chewing the side of his cheek. The last time Dean had seen him this angry he had been beating the shit out of Dean in an alleyway. Dean took a deep breath.

“Cas, I need to explain-“ he began.

“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Cas said swiftly.

“Can I just-“

“No.”

“Fine,” Dean said heatedly, “just forget it ever happened then.”

“Fine,” Cas bit out.

Dean sat in the silence that followed for about ten seconds before he couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed all of their things and stalked to the door.

“I’ll be in the car,” he said gruffly.

Dean sat in the front seat blasting AC/DC as he fumed. About five minutes later, Sam and Cas joined him. Sam, reading the look on both of their faces, smartly did not comment on the temperature of his shower and kept his mouth shut. Dean unnecessarily turned the music up louder before pulling out of the motel parking lot and getting on the road to Pontiac.

\---

When they arrived in town their first stop was at the local P.D. to check out the report on the stolen refrigerator truck. They were told there were security cameras stationed on the outside of the convenience store where the truck had been dumped. They were taken into a back room to watch footage showing the truck being driven into an alleyway next to the building, which partially obstructed their view. They could see the large back doors of the truck open and close a few times, but didn’t see what was removed. Then the truck was stationary for several seconds.

“You’ve gotta fast-forward,” the tech guy they were working with explained, “It goes totally still for about forty-five minutes,” the grainy image on the screen blurred momentarily as he sped the video up, “Then, boom, they come back to the truck, grab something out of it, and just leave it again. Though this time they walk away and don’t come back. I just don’t know why they would’ve bothered with two trips.”

“Maybe what they were carrying the first time was too heavy for them to carry anything else,” Sam said knowingly to Dean. Dean nodded in understanding.

“You mind if we run through this tape a few more times?” Dean asked.

“Nah, help yourselves. I’ll be in the break room. Sherry brought muffins,” Tech-guy said, excitedly taking his leave, “Just, uh, grab me when you’re done.”

“Well, how nice for him. _Muffins_ from _Sherry_ ,” Dean mocked, sticking his tongue out and doing an excellent imitation of a five-year-old who was just told he couldn’t have cookies until after dinner.

“Dude.” Sam gave him a slightly worried, if not slightly amused, look before sitting back down if front of the computer. “I think you’re tired.”

“You’re…tired,” Dean retaliated on instinct. Dean pouted inwardly at his woefully ineffective retort, but he refused to take it back on principle.

“Guys,” Cas said, calling their attention back to the screen, “that’s them, those are the angels.”

Sam backed up the footage and paused it on two figures walking away from the vehicle.

“That one,” Cas said, pointing to a tall, thin man with short, dark hair and carrying a large canvas bag, “is Amal. And that,” he pointed to a shorter woman next to him, whose hair was bobbed, “is Mara.”

“What do you think’s in the bag?” Sam asked.

“Nothing good,” Cas replied, face set into a serious frown.

“Why would they have left the truck though?” Dean asked, more to himself than anyone else. “It was a pretty convenient place to keep the body, what reason would they have needed to move everything on out?”

Cas pondered this silently while Sam had started typing something into the computer.

“Their mission must be complete, or nearly complete,” Cas decided. “That is why they moved on. The only component that must be left is…”

“You,” Dean finished.

“Yes!” Sam piped up, “Hey, guys, I triangulated the area around the store where they parked the truck and guess what’s within walking distance?”

Dean and Cas both looked at him expectantly.

“A refrigerated meat packing warehouse that’s been closed for the season,” Sam said and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“We have to retrieve Jimmy now,” Cas said fervidly, making to exit the room.

“Whoa, hold up there, buddy, what’s the rush? We can’t just bust in there. We know they’re waiting for you,” Dean said, grabbing Cas by the arm to prevent his leaving.

Cas retrieved his arm back from Dean’s grip, rubbing his forearm like Dean had hurt him, but Dean knew he hadn’t grabbed him that hard.

“Cas?” Dean asked, voice low, “What aren’t you telling us?”

Cas fixed his eyes on the ground and sighed before rolling up his sleeve to reveal a patch of lesions and bruising on his arm.

“This vessel is…weaker than I originally predicted,” Cas admitted.

“And just when were you planning on telling us this?” Dean snapped.

Cas clenched his jaw and stared icily at Dean.

“It doesn’t matter now, _Dean,_ ” Sam said emphatically, coming between them.

“I promised Shae she wouldn’t get hurt,” Cas whispered sadly, “We don’t have much time.”

Sam gave Dean an expectant look.

“Well then,” Dean said, “let’s go thaw out some Jimmy.”

\---

They waited until nightfall to approach the warehouse. The plan was to send Cas in through the front and have Sam and Dean surprise them from behind. It wasn’t the most organized plan they’d ever had, but they were all packing angel blades and a ready-to-kick-ass attitude so it was still better than nothing.

Dean had just gotten into place behind a slotted, plastic curtain as he started to hear voices. Sam was behind a large, metal shelf on the opposite side of the room. From his place behind the curtain Dean could just peak through to see what was going on. He saw Cas enter the room and the backs of two figures as they stepped forward. It was the man and woman from the security footage.

“Greetings, Castiel,” the woman said.

“Mara,” Cas nodded, and then acknowledged the other angel, “Amal.”

“I’m surprised you remember us from Heaven,” Mara said lightly, “Our rank was so much lower compared to yours; so much more…irrelevant.”

“That’s not true.” Cas shook his head. “You were very important. I remember you as great warriors.”

“Great followers of orders, you mean,” Amal interjected.

Both the angels took a step in towards Cas and Dean could just make out Cas deftly shaking the angel blade down his sleeve and into his palm.

“Atta boy, Cas,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“What have you been doing here on Earth, brothers?” Cas asked, getting straight to the point, “I understand your apprehension about returning to Heaven, but have you really forgotten your divine mission to serve and protect? What is the meaning of this death that follows you?”

“It is regrettable, Castiel,” Mara said, hanging her head as if she really did feel shame.

“But it is a means to an end,” Amal clarified, “As, unfortunately, are you.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked. It was an attempt to keep them talking, Dean realized, as Cas started to circle the room, possibly to suss out the location of Jimmy’s body.

“It’s a spell,” Mara explained, “The souls of five righteous mortals, and the soul of one fallen immortal.”

“Why would you have need for such a spell?”

“It keeps us out of Heaven. Permanently,” Amal said vindictively.

“All of those victims…” Cas said angrily.

“As I said,” Mara’s voice shook slightly, “it is regrettable.”

“Where is my vessel?” Cas asked.

“I’m afraid you won’t have need of it for much longer, Castiel,” Amal said as he and Mara closed in on Cas.

Cas finally dropped the blade completely from his sleeve and poised it threateningly before him.

“I said,” Cas hissed through his teeth, “where is my vessel?”

Amal and Mara drew their blades and rushed Cas. Dean took that as his cue to jump up from his hiding place and charge into the fray. Dean could see in his peripheral vision that Sam had done the same. Mara turned and threw her hand out in front of her, blasting Sam and Dean into a wall and pinning them there. Dean’s blade clunked uselessly to the floor several feet below him.

“You think we didn’t know you’d bring your pets along?” Mara laughed derisively.

While Dean had been storming in he hadn’t noticed that Cas had been disarmed and knocked to his knees. Amal had pinned an arm behind Cas’ back and his nose was bleeding.

“You let Cas go,” Dean spat.

“We don’t take orders from Heaven, and we certainly don’t take orders from you, ape,” Mara said, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

Mara left the room then and Cas tried to wriggle free, but Amal pressed a blade to his throat.

“Don’t you dare!” Dean shouted at him, “Don’t you fucking touch him! I will kill you, hear me?”

“Quiet, boy, or I’ll slice your throat first,” Amal threatened.

“Dean, don’t,” Cas pleaded, staring at him with wide eyes. Dean bit his tongue and refused to let the tears welling in his eyes spill over.

Mara returned, wheeling in a large silver table that had been turned into a makeshift altar with a cloth covering the center and a large bronze bowl on top of it, along with some candles placed in four corners around the bowl. She had also brought in the canvas bag that they’d seen on the security camera.

Mara began to light the candles while reciting a few phrases of Enochian.

“Stop!” Cas tried to shout over her, “You don’t want to do this.”

Amal shushed him by pressing the blade closer to his throat.

Mara reached into the bag and pulled out a jar that seemed to be containing an amorphous presence of shimmering, bright light. Dean recognized it as a human soul.

Mara began chanting again and as she started to unscrew the lid Dean happened to glance over at Cas. Cas was already looking at him, and when Dean caught his eye Cas gave him an almost imperceptible smirk and wink. Dean couldn’t help but swell with pride a little bit to know that Cas had learned that expression from him.

Before Amal could react, Cas had taken his free arm and elbowed him hard in the ribs, disarmed him, and twisted around to plunge the angel blade deep into his gut. Amal shouted as he burned out of his vessel, and then crumpled to the ground.

“No!” Mara screamed.

Her concentration broken, Sam and Dean fell to the floor and quickly retrieved their angel blades. Cas advanced on Mara as Sam and Dean closed in behind her.

“Wait,” she said, throwing up her hands, “Your vessel is in there.” She darted her eyes toward the room on their left, where she had retrieved the altar table.

Cas narrowed his eyes at her, but Sam motioned for Cas to go ahead and check it out. As Dean was watching Cas leave, Mara saw her chance and raced towards Dean.

“Dean!” Sam shouted in warning. But Dean didn’t even have to move. Mara had run at him with the intention of impaling herself on his angel blade. She collapsed to the ground, blade buried in her chest.

“I will not,” she coughed weakly, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, “return to Heaven.” Her vessel began to glow, her wings burned into the floor, and then she was still.

Cas stood silently for a moment, as if he was resisting the urge to go to his fallen brethren, but he didn’t move.

“C’mon, Cas,” Sam broke the silence, “Let’s get you back together with Jimmy.”

They pushed aside the curtain to the adjoining room and they all collectively shivered. This was one of the refrigerated rooms. They split up, going down several shelved aisles in search for the body.

“Here!” Cas called after a few moments. Sam and Dean ran down an aisle to find Cas in front of a similar table to the one Mara had wheeled out, but this one had Jimmy on it.

Dean was struck with an extremely odd and combination of emotions seeing what he was used to thinking of as Cas’ body lifeless and cold. But he swallowed it down; now was absolutely not the time to get all choked up about this.

Cas solemnly approached the body and softly pressed his palm to the side of Jimmy’s face. Cas’ eyes began to glow bright blue, and so did Jimmy’s, as he began to transfer bodies.

Both Sam and Dean had to shield their eyes it grew so bright. While Dean’s eyes were covered he heard a soft _whump_ and then it was over. When Dean started to blink his eyes to adjust to the lighting he saw Shae’s body on the floor and Jimmy’s body still motionless on the table.

Sam rushed to pick Shae off of the floor as Dean immediately placed himself at Jimmy’s side.

“Hey,” Dean said, gently slapping the side of his face, “Cas? Cas, ya there? Time to wake up, buddy.”

“Hey, Dean, she’s got a pulse,” Sam informed Dean, cradling Shae’s head in the crook of his elbow. Dean barely heard him.

“Cas,” he begged, “Cas, c’mon, now is _not_ the time, man.”

Cas abruptly sat straight up and coughed a few times.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean pulled him into an aggressive hug.

“Go easy on him, Dean,” Sam admonished, but Dean could hear the smile in his voice.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, his voice muffled into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean couldn’t help it. A single tear creeped it’s way down his cheek.

“I’m sorry I tried to come on to you while I was being a drunken asshole!” Dean said quickly, suddenly needing to get it out before he would have to pull back out of the hug and look Cas straight in the face.

“It’s okay, Dean” Cas sighed, and then he actually relaxed and returned the hug. It took all Dean had in him not to start sobbing like a baby. “I forgive you. But will you please release me for a moment? My limbs are, understandably, a little stiff.”

“Right, right.” Dean sniffed and tried to surreptitiously wipe his eyes as he took a step back. He knew he wasn’t fooling anybody, but they were all still kind enough not to say anything.

“How are you feeling Cas?” Sam asked in concern.

“Surprisingly alright,” Cas said, giving his arms a few experimental circles before swinging his legs around so they’d hang off the edge of the table. “They kept Jimmy in better condition than I could have hoped for. There’s very little healing I have to attend to.”

“Hmm, how ‘bout it, considerate winged dicks,” Dean mused.

At that moment, Shae began to come to, moving her head to the side and moaning feebly.

“Hey,” Sam said gently, “Shae? Can you hear me?”

Shae blinked her eyes open a few times, taking in her surroundings.

“Who are you?” She asked, frightened. Dean noticed her voice was in a completely higher register now without an angel controlling it. “Where am I?”

She tried to get up but was too weak and collapsed right back into Sam’s arms.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Sam started to explain, when Shae caught a glimpse of Cas.

“Uncle Jimmy?” she asked, hopelessly confused. “But you’re-“

“We’ll explain in the car,” Dean sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: All of my police department knowledge/terminology comes from spending my entire life watching Law and Order: SVU
> 
> Fair warning, the final chapter is essentially Destiel fluff cleverly disguised as a plot. Enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

“So you’re saying that all this time my Uncle Jimmy’s been missing,” Shae said from the backseat of the Impala, “he’s actually been possessed by Castiel?”

“Well, technically Jimmy is in Heaven now. I’m merely possessing his body,” Cas explained.

Dean saw in the rearview mirror that Shae was mildly horrified. Dean coughed lightly to indicate this to Cas.

“Uh, with his permission, of course,” Cas amended, “Just as I asked for yours, I had his as well.”

“Oh. I see,” Shae said quietly. She clearly did not see at all and she still looked very pale from the whole tethered-to-an-angel ordeal. They were on the road to Shiloh, Illinois, where Shae was from, to bring her back home.

“I have to thank you again, Shae, for helping me. You’re certain you’re not hurt? I tried to heal you as best I could when I left your body, but I didn’t know if it was enough,” Cas worried.

“I’m fine, honestly Castiel,” she said kindly, “just a bit tired is all.”

Another hour down the highway Dean had to pull off to get to a gas station. Shae excused herself to use the restroom while Dean refueled. When she came back Dean was still outside at the pump and she hesitated to get back in the car.

“Dean, could I talk to you a moment?” She asked.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say…I was awake for some of the time when I was possessed,” she began.

“Oh, uh, look I’m sorry about the groping thing,” Dean said defensively, “I swear it wasn’t personal or anything.”

“What?” she made a face, “No, that’s not what I was – though now that you mention it, that was actually a pretty stupid move, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Thanks,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I was just going to say that I saw the way you looked at Cas, and I could feel the way he felt when he was looking at you,” she said, lowering her voice and looking at him meaningfully. Dean gulped.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Dean said gruffly. Shae sighed impatiently.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of how you feel. That’s all I wanted to tell you,” Shae said, putting a comforting hand on Dean’s arm. Dean made a disbelieving noise.

“I’m not afraid,” he argued.

Now it was Shae’s turn to roll her eyes as she climbed back into the car.

“I’m _not_ afraid,” Dean repeated aloud to himself as he got into the front seat.

An hour and a half later they arrived outside of the apartment complex where Shae lived. She thanked them for the ride and they left her multiple phone numbers to call in case she ever needed them.

“Lord, I hope I never speak to any of you again,” she mumbled as she got out of the Impala, and then catching herself she added, “Um, no offense. Ignore me, I’m tired.”

“Nah, we know what you meant. We actually get that a lot,” Dean said.

“I bet,” Shae said with a soft laugh, “Well, thanks again. Stay safe, Castiel.”

“I endeavor to,” Cas said.

Shae waved one last time before turning to go into her building.

“Nice girl,” Sam commented.

“Too bad she had to get mixed up with the likes of us,” Dean said as he pulled out of the driveway and back out onto the road.

\---

They arrived back at the bunker sometime the next morning. Sam had tried to get Dean to stop for the night at a motel but Dean was too wired and insisted on driving through the night. Plus, he just wanted to get home. As they were unloading the car Cas came up to Dean.

“Dean, I hate to ask, but my vehicle is currently in a motel parking lot in Fairbury, Nebraska-“ Cas started to say.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you back to it,” Dean said, and then he was suddenly struck by a thought. “But, uh, Cas I think you should probably stick around at the bunker for a little while.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Cas stammered, staring at Dean in confusion.

“No, it wouldn’t be any problem. Besides, Sam and I were talking about how it still might not be safe for you out there, especially with two more angels dead, word might get out. So we both think you should stay here,” Dean said smoothly, shooting Sam a pleading look. Sam gave him a strange expression but went along with it.

“Yeah, Cas,” Sam said, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to lay low for a while.”

Dean really didn’t give Sam enough credit some time. He was an excellent unwitting wingman. Dean should do something nice for him sometime, maybe get him a puppy.

“Well, if that’s what both of you think is best,” Cas said with a shrug. Dean knew Cas well enough to know he was secretly pleased.

They all filed into the bunker and dropped their stuff off on one of the library tables with the intention of dealing with it later, and then they each decided now was a great time for a long ass nap. Dean found some clean sheets in a linen closet and quickly made up a bed for Cas in a spare room. Dean knew that he and Cas had made their peace with each other, but there was still a significant amount of silent tension between them. Dean was far too tired to deal with it at the present moment, however, so he left Cas to rest and returned to his own bedroom. He collapsed onto his blessed memory foam mattress, clothes and all, and promptly fell asleep.

Dean’s alarm clock blinked 5:03 pm at him by the next time he opened his eyes. Dean probably could have rolled over and gone right back to sleep but his growling stomach wouldn’t relent. So he shuffled out of his room in his socks, having at some point had the sense to kick off his boots.

He could hear muted voices as he approached the kitchen. He wouldn’t have paid it much mind but then he heard his name. He knew he shouldn’t, but Dean paused next to the doorway to listen in anyway. He justified it by thinking that this was hardly as immoral as the million and one other things he had ever done wrong.

“-care for your brother, I do,” he heard Cas say, “and I did forgive him so I don’t believe we have anything more to discuss.”

“I don’t know, man,” Sam was saying. He sounded strained. “I just think there’s a lot of unspoken stuff between you two.” 

“Such as?”

“Such as…” Sam floundered, “I don’t know, stuff! Personal kind of stuff.”

“Personal stuff?” Cas repeated cynically.  “If your brother weren’t so stubborn when it came to speaking about ‘personal stuff’ it might be a little easier to have a conversation with him.”

Sam sighed, clearly on the verge of giving up.

“Look, Cas, my brother is a lot of things, and he’s great at a lot of them…never tell him I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Cas swore.

“But when he cares about someone, and I mean _really_ cares about someone, he can sometimes have a hard time conveying that.”

There was silence for several seconds. Dean almost thought his heartbeat might give him away it was thumping so loudly in his chest.

“He shows people how he loves them through what he does, not always by what he says…even if what he does is a little misguided at times.”

 _Way to talk me up, Sammy,_ Dean thought with an eye roll. _There goes your puppy._

“What are you saying Sam?” Cas asked. Dean could almost hear his eyes narrowing.

“I’m saying it would be to both of your benefit to hear each other out,” Sam finished.

When Cas didn’t respond for a while Dean decided to take that as his cue to make his presence known by making some noise and yawning loudly.

“Hey, fellas,” Dean greeted, “what’s cookin’?”

“We, uh, got mac n’ cheese and hot dogs on the stove,” Sam said, acting way too nonchalant to be believable in any circumstance, but Dean let it slide.

“Ooh, you even got the good kind, it’s Kraft,” Dean praised, checking out the box next to the giant vat of mac n’ cheese on the stove. Sam must’ve cooked every box they had in the pantry at once.

Dean dished a helping into a bowl, sliced up some hot dogs and threw those in with the mac n’ cheese, and then proceeded to squirt ketchup all over the entire thing.

“Dude, that’s disgusting,” Sam remarked, scrunching up his nose.

“Well, you like salad,” Dean retorted.

“So? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your opinions concerning food are invalid.”

Dean took his place at the table next to Cas and across from Sam, who were both still eating. Cas was casting a wary side glance at Dean’s dish.

“Is it good combined together like that?” Cas asked, pointing at Dean’s concoction.

“Oh, yeah, it’s the best,” Dean said, speaking with his mouth full. He took care to swallow some of it before continuing. “I used to make it for Sammy this way when we were kids. Here, try it.” Dean held out a forkful of his own and offered it to Cas. Instead of taking the fork, like Dean expected, Cas just leaned over and took a bite as Dean held it. Dean had no idea why this made him blush. Things didn’t improve when Sam started quietly humming that dumb _Lady and the Tramp_ “Bella Notte” song. Dean kicked him under the table. Cas was too busy trying to appropriately discern the flavors in his mouth to notice any of this.

“It’s good,” Cas finally decided. “I like it.” Cas briefly swept out his tongue to the corner of his mouth to capture some ketchup that got left there. Then he sucked in his bottom lip thoughtfully, considering the taste of the ketchup alone.

Dean could not drag his eyes away from Cas’ mouth. It was Sam’s turn to kick Dean under the table to snap him out of it. Dean choked on his mac n’ cheese.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asked, startled by Dean’s sudden coughing fit.

“Yeah,” Dean wheezed out. He coughed some more before gulping down some water and beating a fist against his chest.

“Do I need to Heimlich?” Sam asked, barely containing his laughter.

“Sam, I don’t see what’s so humorous about this situation,” Cas reprimanded. Sam finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and barked out a laugh.

“I’m good Cas,” Dean confirmed, his voice hoarse, “No thanks to that little shit.”

“Not so little anymore,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, Christ, how could I forget when you’ve been gloating about it since 1999?” Dean went into another coughing fit as Sam doubled over in his seat with laughter. Cas just sat there glancing back and forth between the two of them, looking lost and concerned. Dean raised up a hand, motioning that he had something else to say, but then he started hacking again and decided to just excuse himself and be saved from further embarrassment.

\---

A few hours later Dean was lounging on his bed flipping through an old issue of _Busty Asian Beauties_ featuring Miss July 2009.

 _Yes_ , he thought with relief, _women are definitely still hot. Awesome._

There was a tentative knock on his door. He hastily shoved the magazine under his pillow.

“Yeah?” Dean called to his door.

The door opened minutely and Cas poked his head in.

“Hello, Dean,” he greeted, “May I come in a moment?”

“Sure,” Dean said, readjusting his position so he was sitting up more on the bed. “What’s up, pal?”

“Uh, I just wanted to thank you again for helping me recover my vessel,” Cas said, standing awkwardly in Dean’s doorway and still not quite in his room.

“Yeah, happy to help,” Dean said.

“Also for allowing me to stay at the bunker,” Cas added, taking another hesitant step into the room.

“Not a problem, man,” Dean said, casting a side glance at Cas. “So now tell me what you really came in here to talk to me about.”

Cas sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I was wondering if maybe we could go out somewhere tomorrow night. Maybe for dinner? I would like to speak with you and I thought perhaps it’d be best to do it somewhere that Sam isn’t around or that isn’t your bedroom,” Cas said, then his eyes widened and he blushed like he’d said something out loud that he hadn’t intended to.

“Are you asking me on a date Cas?” Dean asked, flashing him an intentionally flirtatious smile to cover up how uncomfortable both of them clearly were.

“I-I was just. No!” Cas scowled.

“I’m teasing Cas. Yes, I would love to go get dinner with you tomorrow. Just let me know when and where.”

“Alright, okay,” Cas almost smiled he looked so relieved, “Thank you, Dean.”

With that, Cas turned and left his room, closing the door behind him.

Dean slowly let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in.

\--- 

The next night Dean was hunting around the library for his keys while Sam worked diligently on his laptop at a desk. Sam must have picked up on Dean’s manic energy because he looked up from his screen and asked,

“Dean, what’s up with you?”

“Just trying to find my keys,” Dean answered, distractedly running a hand through his hair. He paused and ran his hand back through his hair in the opposite direction in case he had messed it up.

“You check the pocket of the jacket on the back of that chair?” Sam offered.

“Oh, here they are, thanks Sammy.”

“Dude, for real, what’s got you all worked up?” Sam closed his laptop and looked expectantly at Dean.

“I am going on a date with Cas,” Dean said, leaning a hip against the desk. Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really?”

“No, not really,” Dean said, trying to make it sound like a joke and not like disappointment. “We’re just grabbing a bite and ‘talking’ apparently.”

“That sounds like a date,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Ah, shaddup,” Dean said, making a swipe at Sam, which he dodged.

“At any rate, that sounds good. You two could work some stuff out. And then also bring me home some take out.”

“Alright, don’t push your luck, bro,” Dean glared down as Sam gave him the pouty lip and puppy dog eyes combo. Dean didn’t even have to say anything because Sam, smug bastard that he is, knew Dean would bring him something home.

It was then that Cas came around the corner and Dean had to do a double take. Cas was in jeans and what must have been an old, white button-down of Sam’s because it was a little too big in the shoulders. Dean suddenly noticed the top buttons of the shirt were undone and holy shit this was the _exact_ look Dean had told Cas to wear when he went on his “date” with Nora from the Gas ’n Sip. Cas stopped in his tracks when he noticed Dean’s mouth hanging open and he started fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt.

“This was a poor choice,” Cas muttered, “I’ll go and put the suit back on.”

“No, no! Cas you look…fine,” Dean stuttered, trying to recover himself. _Very smooth, Winchester, very smooth._

Sam was looking back and forth between the two of them with unrestrained glee.

“Let’s just go,” Dean said with a dark look at Sam before heading to the garage.

“Don’t have too much fun, you two!” Sam called after them.

\---

Cas had requested a sushi restaurant for their big night out. When Dean had asked why, Cas had said he had heard about it on an episode of _Friends_.

“Since when do you watch _Friends_?” Dean had asked, utterly bemused.

“You forget, Dean, I too have spent my share of nights cooped up in motel rooms for extensive periods of time. Besides, I like Rachel.”

So there they were at a Japanese restaurant on the north side of town. On a quasi-date with not-in-a-trench-coat Cas. Dean was about as far out of his comfort zone as he could get.

“These are the most useless utensils ever invented,” Dean groused, fumbling with his chopsticks.

“Dean, there are instructions on the back of the wrapper,” Cas very unhelpfully reminded him, as he handled his chopsticks like he’d been born with them in his hand.

“Yeah, well,” Dean grumbled, throwing his chopsticks back down on the table.

“Also, I appreciate your willingness to try something new with me,” Cas said, looking at Dean with an expression that could only be described as utter fondness and admiration. “I know this isn’t your first choice when it comes to food.”

“Hell, I’ll try anything once,” Dean said with a shrug. Then, after replaying the words in his head, his throat went dry and he found he couldn’t quite meet Cas’ eyes. Thankfully, the innuendo seemed to go over Cas’ head.

It was then their peppy waitress brought them a tray bearing three different rolls they had picked at random. Dean eyed them suspiciously as Cas expertly picked up a salmon roll and popped it into his mouth. Cas closed his eyes, nodded emphatically and made an affirmative “mmm” noise. Dean didn’t even feel the need to eat; he could just sit here and watch Cas eat sushi all day.

“I like sushi,” Cas confirmed once he had finally swallowed.

“Alright,” Dean said, using a two-handed method with his chopsticks to pick up the roll Cas had just eaten. “Here goes nothin’.”

Dean chewed carefully, getting used to the texture of the raw fish before considering how it actually tasted.

“Hmm,” he considered, “It’s good.”

Cas beamed at him. They both sampled the other rolls on the platter to similar satisfaction.

“You want to know something Dean?” Cas asked, suddenly becoming thoughtful.

“Wha?” Dean replied, mouth full of barbecued eel.

“I had always wondered,” Cas began slowly, “if things might have been different if I had originally chosen a female vessel instead of Jimmy Novak.”

Dean stopped chewing.

“Different how?” Dean asked cautiously.

“Like…like they were with you and Anna?” Cas suggested with raised eyebrows and slight disdain. Dean felt his cheeks heat up; he hadn’t realized Cas knew about that. “That maybe we would have been more than just friends right from the start.”

Dean didn’t know how to answer, so he just remained silent.

“I guess my question was answered when I finally did inhabit a female,” Cas continued. His voice remained steadfastly calm, but Dean could see the hurt behind Cas’ eyes. It felt like a dagger to the chest.

“Cas-“ Dean tried to interrupt, but Cas spoke over him.

“I’ve realized something though, Dean. Even if I had been of a more pleasing gender to you, even if I had been able to get that one night with you all of those years ago…” Cas trailed off. Dean could scarcely breathe now. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, could hardly _dare_ think that this had ever been a thought on Cas’ mind. “Well, I wouldn’t trade it for what we have now. I wouldn’t trade it for all of the happiness, closeness, and friendship that I’ve had with you over these last several years. I am so grateful to you, Dean. And I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

“Cas I-“ Dean didn’t know how to finish; didn’t know what to say to make this right.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas sighed, “You don’t have to say anything. It’s just something I wanted you to know.”

Dean clenched his fist firmly on top of his thigh. He could feel himself starting to sweat from nervousness. He kept his eyes firmly locked on the plate in front of him, unable to look Cas in the eyes, as he said,

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re currently a man, Cas.”

Cas looked up, stunned, with a look like disbelief etched across his face.

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re currently a man,” Dean repeated, “and please, _please_ , understand that I did not grab you in that bar because you were wearing a chick.”

“Then why-?” Cas was shaking his head, confused.

“I might’ve been drunk, man, but I wasn’t lying. I had spent all night talking to that bartender about _you_ , Cas. You. Not the girl you looked like. I had finally come to the freaking realization that I really freaking like you, and it freaking _sucks_ because it took me this damn long to figure it out.”

“Oh,” was all Cas said, looking at him with wide eyes.

“So, uh, that’s just something I wanted you to know,” Dean said, stuffing his mouth with another piece of sushi, effectively ending the conversation.

Cas didn’t say anything else, but he smiled throughout the rest of dinner and nudged Dean’s foot with his own underneath the dinner table. Dean smiled and nudged him back.

About an hour later they were walking back in silence to the parking garage where they’d left the Impala. When the car was in sights Cas asked,

“Dean, why haven’t you kissed me?”

“Let me put it this way, it isn’t for lack of wanting to,” Dean said unthinkingly with a slight chuckle.

Cas abruptly grabbed his wrist, causing Dean to look back at him on instinct, and Cas crashed his lips into Dean’s.

Dean was initially too shocked to kiss him back, just letting his lips be still underneath Cas’. Dean vaguely registered the feel of Cas’ stubble against his and the warmth and fullness of his lips among all of the other feelings of dizziness and butterflies. It was awesome. It was beyond awesome because it was _Cas._ Before Dean could remember himself and return the kiss Cas had pulled back, though still holding on to Dean’s wrist. Cas searched his eyes, suddenly looking self-conscious.

“Dean your eyes are…” Cas stuttered, swallowing audibly, “very green.”

Dean threw his head back in laughter.

“Man, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet, don’t ya Cas?”

Cas smiled nervously at the ground and Dean placed a finger gently under Cas’ chin, tilting his head back up. This time he met Cas in the middle when they kissed.

Dean was mentally praising himself for being so slow and gentle when he noticed that Cas was backing Dean against the car, one hand fisting into Dean’s hair and the other clutched onto the back of his shirt. Well, so much for that. Dean also realized that he still had a hand cupping the side of Cas’ face and the other hand had somehow ended up on Cas’ ass. Huh. Interesting. And then Cas was grinding into him against the side of the car and nothing else mattered except Cas’ hips and Cas’ mouth and Cas’ _tongue, Jesus Christ._

When he and Cas finally paused to catch their breath Dean managed to put a hand on Cas’ chest, momentarily keeping them apart.

“Dude, we’re in public,” Dean reminded him.

“Yes, Dean, I’m aware,” Cas panted, and then placed his teeth on the side of Dean’s neck right under his jaw in a not-so-gentle bite.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice broke, but he was too aroused to be embarrassed, “Cas, please, let’s go home. I want to take you home.”

“Only if we don’t have to stop,” Cas mumbled with his lips still pressed against Dean’s neck.

“We have to stop while I’m driving.”

Cas stopped only to meet Dean’s eyes with an angry pout.

“Then when we get back to my room I promise things will only get better.”

“Fine,” Cas acquiesced, placing one more kiss on Dean’s lips before climbing into the passenger side seat.

Dean quickly dug his phone out of his jean’s pocket and tapped out a text to Sam.

_Cas and I kissed and made up. Heh. But seriously. We’re on our way back. Might wanna make yourself scarce from the vicinity of my bedroom._

Dean hit send. Sam texted back almost immediately.

_Awesome but also gross. I’ll be sorting files in the basement for the rest of my life. Let me know when it’s safe to surface._

Dean smirked and put Baby in drive.

\---

Now that Dean had kissed Castiel once he hadn’t been able to stop. He hadn’t been able to drive home fast enough. He had kissed him in the bunker garage. He had kissed him in the hallway on the way to his bedroom, and as he shut the door behind him with his foot. He had refused to stop kissing him as they had both divested each other of their clothing and made their way onto Dean’s mattress. And now several hours later Dean kissed him still, lips dragging along Cas’ collar bone, as they both lay there exhausted and sweaty with Dean’s covers pooled around their hips.

“Dean?” Cas said, finally breaking the silence, his voice raspier than usual. Dean smiled complacently against his skin. He had made Cas’ voice sound like that, all rough and used.

“Mmm?” Dean replied, lowering his lips to Cas’ chest, his thumb repeatedly tracing over the curve of Cas’ hip.

“I can literally feel how smug you are right now,” Cas chastised, but Dean could hear the smile in his voice. Dean lifted his head to give Cas a wide, conceited grin. Cas gave a low chuckle.

“And how are you feelin’?” Dean asked, resting his chin on Cas’ sternum and looking up at him.

“Exceptional,” Cas said, grinning at the ceiling, “Beyond words. You were phenomenal, Dean.”

“To be fair, you don’t have a whole lot to compare me to,” Dean reasoned, “I could be awful and you’d have no idea.” Cas smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

“I know enough, Dean Winchester,” he scowled playfully.

“You know I always wanted to be your first,” Dean admitted as Cas looked down at him in mild surprise, “but I still think second is better than not at all.”

“And what makes you think you’re only the second?” Cas said, raising a haughty eyebrow. Dean lifted himself up onto his elbows.

“What? Who was it? Was it Hannah? I never liked that chick-“

“Calm down, Dean, I was kidding,” Cas snickered, “You are second, after April. I have since been holding out for only you, obviously.”

“Damn straight,” Dean muttered, crawling back up to the pillows and rolling onto his back. Cas moved in so he was laying flush against his side, pillowing his head on Dean’s shoulder as Dean stretched his arm around him. Then it was Dean’s turn to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Cas asked.

“Straight,” Dean repeated. Cas snorted.

“Speaking of, you’re handling this much better than I thought you would,” Cas commented, placing an arm around Dean’s ribcage.

“Hey, give me some credit,” Dean complained. “Though, it helps that I’ve got you. And I did talk some stuff through with Sammy. Ah, and while I’m thinking about it…” Dean reached over to the nightstand for his phone and sent Sam a quick text that it was okay to return upstairs. Sam sent him back a picture text of actors Andy Samberg and Jorma Taccone holding a cake that said "Congrats on the Sex" accompanied by the message,

_Hallelujah_

_Fuck you_ , Dean replied.

_No, fuck YOU,_ Sam texted back.

“Nerd,” Dean muttered, returning his phone to the nightstand.

He looked back down at Cas, who had closed his eyes and while not totally asleep yet had started to gently snore. Dean pressed his lips to the top of Cas’ head and spoke his next thoughts aloud.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said quietly.

“Don’t say stupid things, Dean,” Cas murmured sleepily.

“Then you keep me quiet, angel,” Dean suggested.

Cas reached up one last time to place his lips over Dean’s and kiss him into silence. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading friends!
> 
> Some background on this fic (if you care): At some point during the airing of s10 I had the thought "What if the only time we got canon confirmation of Destiel was when Cas had to be in a female vessel for some reason? That would suck major balls." Then I got /mad/ about something the writers hadn't actually done. So I wanted to write it first in a way that would be clear that a female vessel wasn't the reason Dean had feelings for Cas, but was more of an instigator for Dean to overcome his repressed feelings that he really obviously has. So I really hope that came across!
> 
> Any and all constructive criticism or comments are more than welcome. I am good at replying (there's nothing better going on in my life). I love to hear your thoughts and I love to hear suggestions for other fics! I am currently This Close to being done with another Destiel fic that involves Claire (cuz we all need more Claire) that I plan to post, so please stay tuned, folks!
> 
> ***UPDATE***  
> Aforementioned Claire fic is now POSTED! Go check out Trip Through Your Wires. (Also happens to be my first E rated destiel fic, boys and girls, you have been warned.)
> 
> Find me over on the tumblrverse if you are so inclined edgarallanrose.tumblr.com
> 
> -KS

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: I was originally going to title this fic "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)" as in the song from Aerosmith, but even I couldn't take that shit seriously. The current title is a line from the song "Lola" by the Kinks.
> 
> You can find me on the tumblrverse as [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)


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